A Life Of Trepidation
by scribblechacha
Summary: Who was the hit man that killed Billy Dane? As Alex Drake said "Everything is significant." Set during S1 Ep6


**A/N: Yep, another one shot from me. Writer's block keeps coming back with vengeance and I'm determined to beat it before I continue with my ongoing fic. Any who, I hope it's not too bad. Do read on.**

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"_Billy Dane, Mr Cale."_

"_Who?"_

"_Billy Dane, you know Billy Dane, the livewire, the cocky boy, the bike boy."_

"_Listen darlin'-"_

"_The boy you did the post office with."_

"_Oh right yeah, yeah."_

"_The boy who was shot dead tonight in front of his eight-year-old nephew on a piece of scrubland."_

"_What?"_

"_Two shots. Back of the head. The first after he'd handed over two grand from that raid to the man who then blew his face off as he walked away, the second delivered after he was face down in the ground; all witnessed by an eight-year-old boy."_

_- - -_

"_When you dropped us off we went back to Billy's and the phone was ringing, and Billy answered it, and we came straight back out again, and he drove here. Billy took some money out of this. He told me to wait in the car. He went over there."_

"_And do you know what happened then?"_

"_I saw Billy meet this man out there, this tall man. And they talked and Billy gave him the money. He was coming back to me, but the man followed him, and he went bang. And Billy fell. He didn't even turn. He just..."_

- - -

Why has he cropped up in this world? In fact, what was this world? Was it real? Or was it a figment of his imagination? The last thing he really remembered was being in hospital, dying of cancer in two-thousand-and-eight. Now suddenly he was here, one this piece of scrubland after someone called Joan had phoned him and told him to go there. So here he was waiting; waiting for some guy called Billy Dane, some guy whom Joan had requested to be put to death, some guy who he didn't know, but felt the excitement rush to his chest as he anticipated the arrival of this 'Billy'.

The arrival of a car stirred him from his thoughts; he looked up to see a figure swaggering towards him confidently. "Alright mate? I'm Billy." Billy removed a rucksack from his shoulders and began rifling through it. "Two-grand for Chas here, as 'e asked for."

"Good. Mr Cale will be glad you retained the money." His Irish accent cut through the air bitterly.

"Great. Right I better go now before the fuzz get any ideas, nice to meet yer." No wonder this 'Joan' wanted Billy dead, he was annoying him already and he had only known him for all of two minutes. Stuffing the money into the pocket of his great black overcoat, he rummaged in his inner pocket for the handgun he had been equipped with when he landed in this dystopia. He jogged to the retreating figure.

"Billy!" Billy turned around as he heard his name, but before Billy could say anything the gun had been aimed and the bullet released, hitting him squarely in the face, a fountain of blood spewing from the wound. The body hit the ground with a reverberating 'thump', to ensure the job was done properly he aimed the pistol carefully and released the trigger; a bullet once more meeting its target causing a stream of blood ooze from the base of Billy's skull.

"Billy!" A small voice startled him, he retreated to the nearest covering some bushes. "Billy?" He watched as a small boy walked over to the prone form, tears prickling his eyes as he viewed the scene before him; if he had known there was going to be a boy then he would have rescheduled. The boy ran, tears streaming down his face.

- - -

Still in the same position as hours before, he watched. It would seem that CID team had approached the now cordoned off crime scene; three men, ranging in physique and an exceptional woman, he recognised the face, but how? This was nineteen-eighty-one and he was from two-thousand-and-eight, he was so sure that he had seen this woman before, and very recently too. The woman walked off to a squad car where the small boy occupied a back seat; he need to hear the conversation but it was useless, if he moved any closer he would risk being spotted and then being placed under arrest. The remaining officers soon moved on, he waited a few minutes until the squad cars had left the scene, then he made his move. He ran, as fast as he could to the one place he knew, he just hoped that it was his like in two-thousand-and-eight, if it was not then he was screwed.

- - -

It was the same place all right; however, it was bare to the bone, no curtains, no heating, not furniture, just two plain rooms. The bathroom and the kitchen slash living room slash bedroom, simple and easy to manage, for however long he was going to stay in this world it was going to remain as it is. Ringing. That was odd; did he even have a phone in this time? Obviously he did. Joan Cale again, she wanted him to collect a person from Alla Casa, Alex Drake? He recognised that name maybe that was the woman he saw earlier. No, too much of a coincidence.

- - -

His dark coattails whipped around the corner as he made his way to Alla Casa, this person must be really digging up a shit storm for the Cales to even contemplate murder; yes they were pretty criminals but when it came down to it, from what he knew, it would have to be an issue of great importance for them to hire a hit man. As he neared the restaurant, he noticed a male figure cradling another, it was the woman he saw earlier and it seemed that she was near death, so it was Alex Drake. Then it all hit him; the reasons why he recognised things, why he felt out of place, he was in a coma, that was the only plausible reason that came into his mind. So why was Alex Drake there? Sure, she had just been reported missing only minutes ago in two-thousand-and-eight but she surely couldn't be in a coma too, could she? He turned and made a hasty retreat from the restaurant, they didn't need him now, the Cales deserved to go down, he would meet Alex sometime in this world and he was going to make sure he had fun with it.

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**A/N2: I bet you've all guessed who it was, any way thanks for reading, please tell me what you think. All constructive criticism accepted.**


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